The Malign Star
by Peridot Tears
Summary: “...For a malign star rules over the romance of demigods; crossed are the stars above their heads.” GodChildShipping. Post-Battle of The Labyrinth.
1. A Huntress Speaks: Zeus

**The Malign Star**

_**PT: Written for the GodChildShipping forum. Feedback would be much appreciated. Chapters will lengthen eventually, and I'm still unsure on how long this fic will be. Thanks to ezyl for beta-reading this :D **_

_**On that note, enjoy.**_

_Disclaimer: If I said no, will you leave?_

Summary: "...For a malign star rules over the romance of demigods; crossed are the stars above their heads."

--

_The demigods of this world walk beneath cursed skies, with short lives and their times wrapped in fate._

_They live short lives. They are constantly targeted for their blood. They live. They die. They fight. They love._

_And they make decisions._

_Decisions._

_Decisions, decisions, decisions._

_So many decisions._

_They can choose immortality. They can choose a blessing, or a curse...for life._

_I chose immortality._

_When you're a child of the Big Three—Lord Zeus, Lord Poseidon, Lord Hades—it all comes down to this: decide. Live—or die? What do you live for? What do you die for? What do you give up, and why?_

_I know why—_

_I've lived—for I am not one to give up on life._

_I've died—so I could hold off monsters while my friends—my whole world—fled to safety._

_I've come back, decided; and gave up...revived, I became immortal, one of the pure virgins forever young, so I will never destroy what means the most to me._

_I've lived a short life, but now mine is eternal. I have lived. I have died. I have loved. I have made choices. I will live forevermore._

_Do you remember, Luke? Do you remember, Annabeth? Do you remember, Grover? Have you known it yet, Percy?_

_I spent nights and days on the run—I remember...memories of blood; of pain, pain, and more pain; my heart hurting. There was Luke, Annabeth, Grover. Those nights—I recall them, in which we spent our time together, shared our moments; how we were in danger, but together. Luke and I, we cursed our fathers together, for bringing us about and abandoning us._

_I had thought that becoming a Huntress would solve most—if not all—problems. I was tired of living. I was ready to do what I could to help those important to me...I will never turn sixteen...never to be used as a pawn to help Kronos._

_Again, I wonder if the sacrifice was worth it. It was definitely a sacrifice, a true sacrifice...and now, I'll let you know why._

_Welcome to the world of demigods and Huntresses._

_I am Thalia._


	2. Full Moon: Unlearned

**The Malign Star**

_**PT: The narration will be in third person, and in present tense completely, to avoid confusion. I felt like writing in this style .-. I've decided there will be sexual themes later to stir Artemis's anger, and for a darker setting. I'll skip over it, but only imply. Thanks again to ezyl for beta-reading :D I don't mind that many corrections; I'm extremely grateful -Huggles ezyl- But I think it's "Artemis's," not "**_**_Artemis'," noting things I've read..._**

_Disclaimer: Eh...I support PercyThalia (LOVE THE PAIRING *__* over Percabeth, so...unlike Rick Riordan...yeah...._

Summary: "...For a malign star rules over the romance of demigods; crossed are the stars above their heads."

--

**Full Moon**

--

"_It wasn't real._

"_The pain..._

"_Pain, pain, pain..._

"_It wasn't real, the pain that tore at my body—the thousands of knives, slashing at me, hurting me; my heart threatening to rip out from my chest; stabbed all over, I could practically see the knives, eerily shining silver to the points, embedding themselves in my body—pain—pain—it hurt so much..."_

"_It—it must've hurt...a lot."_

"_Yeah...and now it hurts, just like then."_

"_Why do you hu..."_

"_Don't hide it. You love Annabeth. I've seen. And that's why it hurts now—because I love you."_

--

Thalia is running...in flight, through the woods—through the trees that brush her with familiar gentle slap of branches and leaves. Over the shrubs, the ground shrouded in hoarfrost, the wet leaves strewn like stars scattered over the sky. Her quiver is slung over her shoulders, the silver arrows secure; the bow notched and held forward, at the same color. She had abandoned her spear—tucked it somewhere to use some other time...if ever. Above her head, above the tops of ancient trees the sky is an inky black, but with a surprisingly distinct add of blue. The entrance opens to the south, revealing a full moon of silver and white.

Bow in hand, the daughter of Zeus chases a dear, the latter swift of foot, and only stopping to sniff the air before recognizing a pursuer and dashes off. The new spring air is cool, fresh after days of rain. It seems to be a good night for hunting. Running, spraying leaves over when her feet—in such a movement they hardly disturb those underfoot—truly touches the ground—she is almost with the wind. The deer is ahead, snowy tail waving stiffly as the creature flees, terrified.

Thalia, the lone maiden, raises the bow higher, with the gleaming arrow notched smartly to it.

Her game is ahead, and she waits for a moment before—truly confirmed of a good kill—releases the string and arrow; there is a sharp twang, a sharper _whiz_ of noise; and the arrow strikes; the beast falls, the arrow point buried into its hide. The deer utters a low moan of pain, but—before Thalia can react—is back on its feet, struggling forward.

And she sees...her aim was fake, had embedded into the creature's flank, whence the beast was not yet beaten.

Thalia's eyes narrow, the electric blue of their depths slitting into thin strips of cobalt ice; this is not the first bit of prey she had missed tonight—nor the last few nights of sky and woods and tears—and the pain, a chilly hand holding her heart in a grip of stone. And shame.

Shame and pain and tears.

Shame, in oneself; pain, for the self's heart; tears, unshed but inner.

She gives chase again, but shame becomes flame—burns a hole through her chest, searing—she is, after all, a virgin Huntress...

_I'm a fool, _she thinks, as tears begin smarting her eyes, _a complete and utter _fool!

Had she thought—that this would be easy? Of course not...she had thought, once before that—that—that—

_Don't think about _that;she shakes her head sternly, jolting herself to reality. _Don't think about _that..._don't think about _that..._don't think about _that...

_It's done, and good riddance! _she adds to herself, angrily. When she had sworn to never fall in love—again...to never, ever_—ever—_again...after the last time...and she had fallen again...

"_And that's why it hurts now—because I love you._

"_And you can't love me back..."_

She was lucky to even have let her romance slip from Artemis's eye.

_He turned on her, angrily, it seemed...and said, "...Don't..." Pained. "But, I thought you already..."_

She slips, falls to the ground, tears beading in pearls.

"_You—you slut..."_

She has lost herself again, fallen.

Lost, a stone of ice in the pit of her stomach.

Fallen, fallen, fallen—a swirl of broken dreams, crushed.

"_I love you...and you can't love me back."_

Have the gods forsaken her?—or is it herself? Her fault, for what she had done, what had been, what is at present—

_I love you._

_I love you, and you can't love me back. But I still love, like the ignorant fool I am._

Hurt, pain, tears, broken dreams...

Loving, dying, living, and loving again...

And dying, again.

She bites her lip, alone, in the moonlight; the deer has left, bleeding out a trail of crimson—perhaps it shall die soon in any case, a slow and painful death.

And she thinks his name, wondering where it all went wrong.

She is to blame, for all her own troubles—

Looking up into the sky with tearful blue eyes, she sees the stars winking at glimmering, the full moon a light among the dark stretch of night. And the gods—the gods to blame—because she can blame them, for they are the only others whom she can blame.

And suddenly, a scream pierces the air, blowing up the heavens.

--

_**PT: Cliffhanger—I love doing that x) Review, please...your opinion is appreciated, to know where this fic is going. And thank you for reading, and thanks for the prior reviews for this story ^^ I won't say much right now, for the sake of the plot.**_


	3. Full Moon: Doubles

**The Malign Star**

_**PT: ...I need to explain something. I was writing the next chapter to this story—but then my hardware broke down and my laptop was carted off to Chinatown, because all my problems with the computer are solved there. When I got it back—well, you know—my documents were lost forever, everything was up for a fresh start. So there you go. Then I returned to struggling with writer's block, every writer's worst nightmare. But I totally managed to push it away for a while. Read: Now. Thanks to ezyl again for beta-ing :D Love you, Pi~!**_

_Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson. Seriously. Even though I'm also a New Yorker. _

Summary: "...For a malign star rules over the romance of demigods; crossed are the stars above their heads."

--

**Full Moon**

--

She doesn't think—she snatches up her bow, dashing off in the direction of the sound. The sound splits the air like a pick on ice; it shatters. Truly, she is thankful for a disturbance, albeit it is a worrying one. She does not need another tearful night.

So she runs.

She runs in the direction of the noise—it sounds an awful lot like the huntress Gabrielle, the other demigod, a pretty blonde from the eighteenth century. Gabrielle could be her older sister.

And now she has returned to camp, where a flock of silvery huntresses have gathered before her; they are surrounding something, and some sort of sense tells Thalia that it is Gabrielle. She pushes past each and every one of the girls in her way; they protest, but do not move against her—she is too quick for them. The light material of their moon-struck clothing brushes against hers as she passes, cold breaths and sore hearts. She is alarmed, and does not wish to wait to know who it was that screamed.

Soon she tears her way to the center.

She wants to scream when she catches sight of the bloodied Gabrielle on the ground.

Artemis is there as well—a child next to the teenager. When Thalia catches sight of the goddess's cold, cold eyes, she sees only cold fury, ice that glazes the image of the moon. She would not be surprised if her Lady would choose to turn about and dash in furious pursuit of whoever did..._whatever happened to Gabrielle; _and thus showing that she is on the brink of losing her mind to anger.

"What happened?" she gasps. The unconscious huntress looks a horrible mess. Silvery tatters clothe the red-stained form. She must have been attacked, that is the most likely reason...but why...

Artemis's frozen flints move to gaze up at her, and for a moment Thalia almost fears her Lady; there is anger, enough to tear apart Mount Olympus itself. The moon goddess is a mother of sorts to all of them, but a general at the same time. If she learns to love one of them, it will hardly account to anything, in the end—if they prove themselves unfaithful, they will be cast out like any man.

The goddess speaks. Her voice is chilling, rampaged by snow wolves, and says, coldly, harshly, "She has been violated."

All at once, outrage sweeps the setting; some huntresses murmur in disgust. Thalia's grip tightens even more upon her bow. Her heart immediately leaps in fury.

To think that someone would take someone, hurt someone against her will...

And feel _happy _about it...

It is sick.

"Who did it?" she asks immediately, quietly. The bow is ready to snap beneath her fingers, and she wants to find whoever did this to her comrade who has been violated—whoever dares to do this to one of them...

Hesitation. She feels it, for it comes in its slightest form; there is a brief, pregnant pause before Artemis says, darkly, reluctantly, "I don't know."

She sounds frustrated. Of course she would.

Thalia's eyes narrow; again she looks at her silver sister Gabrielle, fallen victim to some man's disgusting pleasures, and asks, "Where did it take place?"

Something in her has resolved—to take action. She cannot leave it all like this. She cannot see her comrade raped and left there, with all her immortal allies helpless to chase the culprit.

Then logic reaches her again: When Gabrielle wakes, she can tell them who did this.

Till then she must wait, and help her in any way she can.

She grinds her teeth together—she almost rushed out blindly; so unbecoming of a lieutenant, unbecoming of any huntress who has fought for years.

It is how foolish mistakes are made.

She would know.

_Don't think about that, _she warns herself quickly. This is not the time, nor the place.

Looking back at Artemis, she says, "When Gabriel wakes..."

"She is no longer a virgin." Artemis interrupts, harshly. Thalia is able to hold back a quick gasp when her Lady speaks again, totally devoid of emotion. "Therefore she can no longer be a huntress."

The other girls shift at the sudden dismissal of Gabrielle, and Thalia bites her lip inside her mouth to check her alarm. Of course! She should have known.

"But...," Thalia says, when she is sure that she can conceal her feelings, "is there any way to help her?"

"That cannot be done."

"But, if by the will of the gods," she argues. "She did not fall in love with anyone. It was forced. And virginity can be returned—it's been done before." She stops; she has let herself go. She cannot speak against her Lady, not here; in private, perhaps, but not before the rest of the maidens.

"Believe me," Artemis says coolly—Thalia's heart skips a beat—"I wish I can. But that cannot be done as much today. That is one effect of the gods' adaptation of Western civilization." She does not say why. "But when I find the scum that dares to harm a maiden, perhaps that can be arranged." She speaks no more, and Thalia has to think, dryly, that there are still things about the gods that she does not know.

Artemis stands and straightens herself, nodding her head—a clear dismissal. As the huntresses move away—all of them except Thalia—she bends over again, and picks up Gabrielle. The small stature of the goddess supporting the taller girl makes the scene look somewhat ridiculous, but still impressive. There is a flicker of pity, and again rage in her eyes before she turns toward her tent. "Thalia," she calls, without looking back. Thalia silently follows.

Anxiety gnaws a bit at her stomach.

Artemis still does not look back when Thalia walks into the artificial light of her tent, not until she deposits Gabrielle to the extra sleeping bag in the corner. With clearer vision, Thalia sees the slack-jawed, close-eyed expression of the misfortunate girl; she catches the stench of blood rising from her body. Again she feels the passing strike of anger.

"Tomorrow," Artemis says suddenly, turning around, "we will be going to New York City."

Thalia blinks at this announcement.

The small goddess goes on, "I have reason to believe that the culprit"—a tight, momentary draw of the brows—"resides there. Meanwhile, hunting may be done at Central Park."

_Then Percy..._

No. She has to get him out of her mind. There are more New Yorkers than him, and she needs to stop thinking of him, _him, and him._

So she nods.

_I will be closer to you..._

"Tomorrow, then," she says, nodding in a stiff fashion. "Tomorrow, New York."

--

_**PT: Ohoho~ New Yorkers 8D**_


End file.
